


Hold Me, Haunt You

by JessJesstheBest



Series: Lesbian Ghosts [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: But it's supposed to be cute not creepy, Case Fic, F/F, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Dean, POV First Person, POV Outsider, Present Tense, Sympathy for ghosts, There's also some ghosty stalking, Yeah it's still kinda creepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 20:59:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4407437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessJesstheBest/pseuds/JessJesstheBest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've never hurt anyone, I haven't done anything wrong. All I want to do is spend some time with a girl. So why are these two guys bangin' down the door?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me, Haunt You

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd which is weird because I wrote this for a school assignment lolololol Have fun.

 

Dezi’s baking cupcakes. She always bakes when she’s stressed. Last month, following a loud phone conversation with her mother, the sugary smell of cinnamon rolls filled the apartment building. I look forward to the end of every month when I can expect the aroma of chocolate chip cookies to permeate the air; she’s never confident in her ability to make rent.

Now it’s cupcakes. I won’t flatter myself into thinking she’s stressed about me. 

I lose myself in the warm aroma of baking chocolate and lemon and red velvet. The lemon are probably for her brother, Marcus, because of his weird vendetta against cocoa. Freak.

Dishes clang as she dumps the mixing bowl and blender and whisk and things into the sink. On the counter there’s a stray measuring spoon she must have missed. As if it knows it’s out of place, the spoon in question zips through the air and into the sink, barely missing Desiree. She jumps, startled.

I wince. “Sorry. I should probably get a handle on that.”

She grips the edge of the sink with both hands and takes a deep breath. She’s been doing that increasingly since I’ve started watching her. You’d think she’d be happy when the channels switch to GSN just in time for ‘Minute To Win It.’ I mean it _ is _ her favorite show. Or when the coffee table shot five inches to the left just when she was about to stub her toe on it. Like hello, you’re welcome!

But no, she just braces her arms and breathes.

There’s a knock at the door. “Oh, thank God.” Dezi hurriedly wipes her hands and sprints for the door.

“Who is it? I didn’t know we were expecting anyone.”

She doesn’t answer me. I’m unsurprised.

She pulls the door open.  The person standing there looks like a grown up version of one of those poor African kids you pay ten cents a day to send to college.  You know the look: really dark skin that makes his really white teeth glow. Wearing some pastel colored sweater or polo or button up and khaki pants. The only thing that ruins the image is the expression; instead of looking like he’s grateful for life he’s been given he’s just as bitter and cynical as the rest of us.

Oh yay! It’s Marcus.

He envelops her in a hug. “Hey! You look freaked, you okay?” he says into the wiry curls of her hair.

“Yeah, yeah, fine. I just” She pulls away and waves her hand, dismissively. “I just saw something again, it’s nothing.”

His eyes narrow but he doesn’t press. “Okay, well I was actually hoping you could help some… friends of mine. They want to ask you some stuff.” Desiree and I notice the two other men at the same time. I don’t know how we could have missed them; the one guy must be like 6 and a half feet tall.

“Oh.”

These guys look like they stepped out of the pages of some kind of glamorous lumberjack magazine. They’re decked out in flannel, baggy jeans and boots but their features are model-handsome; the big one even has Fabio fabulous hair. The shorter one puts on a charming smile and extends his hand. “Hi, Desiree is it?”

She shakes his hand. “Dezi.”

“Well, Dezi, my name’s Dean and this is my brother Sam.” Gigantor smiles and gives a nod of his shaggy head. “We were just wondering if we could talk to you a little bit?”

They’re obviously soldiers. Or, were soldiers, at least. The eyes, the chin, the stance; it all points to a life through hell. They have secrets in the scars that mark their skin and baggage in the layers and layers of clothing they wear. Seriously, an undershirt, a flannel and a jacket? It’s in the 80’s.

Dezi steps aside to let them in and Marcus leads them all to the kitchen where the smell of cupcakes is strongest. He gives a dramatic whiff. “Is that lemon I detect?”

She gives a slight smile. “Well my weird ass brother doesn’t eat chocolate so…” He grabs her face and gives her a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“Gross!” She shoves him away but her smile is now wide and toothy. “Do you guys want to sit down?”

The first brother, Dean, is eyeing the cooling cupcakes on the counter.

“Dean,” Sam scolds.

“Mm? Yes, right, we’d love to sit, thanks.”

She takes them into the living room where they settle around the coffee table, Dezi and Marcus on the loveseat and Sam and Dean occupying the remaining chairs.

“That’s fine,” I say, “I’ll stand”

Sam shivers. I blink, surprised. 

“Is it cold in here?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s been like that. I don’t know why but it saves me money on A/C.” Dezi shrugs. The brothers exchange a look.

“Well isn’t that convenient.” Dean smacks the thighs of his jeans and gives a cheeky smile.

There’s something about Dean’s smile: He oozes charm. Not only does he want us to trust him, he expects us to. That’s a practiced smile, that was a practiced introduction. We don’t even know why he’s here but I can’t shake my unease.

“We’re actually here to talk about your neighbor,” Dean continues, “Mona McFadden?”

I freeze. They’re here to talk about me?

“Oh yeah,” my eyes snap back to Dezi, “I was really sad to hear about her death. Drove her car off of a bridge? Tragic, just tragic.”

Dezi was upset about my death? She thinks it’s tragic? 

I feel a warmth light inside me. The microwave turns on in response.

Dezi runs to stop it. “Sorry! Sorry. I need to get an electrician in here, I swear.”

I’m too swept away to apologize this time. She cares about me.

Sam clears his throat. “So, that kind of thing happens often?”

“More and more,” Dezi says, returning to the loveseat, “Marcus says it’s probably faulty wiring.” Marcus gives a flimsy smile. 

“Who cares about that, make her say more about me.” Both Sam and Dezi shiver this time.

Dean cooperates. “We’re sure it is. But see, we grew up with Mona and we haven’t seen her in a while. We were wondering if you could tell us what you knew about her.”

I have never seen these men before in my life. I didn’t know any Sam or Dean growing up. 

“Oh,” She’s taken aback. “Well I mean she was really nice, from what I saw of her, but I don’t know if you could call us close.” She looks towards the wall that separates our two apartments, squinting in concentration. “She mostly kept to herself, I think. The other neighbors never really saw much of her either. Actually,” She turns back to look at the boys, “they were all surprised that I saw as much of her as I did.  I never really saw her out of work-out clothes but I don’t think she worked out. I heard her TV at odd hours of the morning, too. She was always there to help me bring in groceries and things if I was carrying lots of heavy stuff? Helpful, and nice, but kind of reclusive.” She shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t know much more.”

My heart sinks. I wasn’t really expecting anything but I can’t help but be disappointed. That’s what she thought of me? Reclusive? An eager beaver? A freak?

The TV flickers to life and a dramatic wailing emanates from the speakers interspersed with muttered grief in Spanish. 

Marcus gets up this time to turn off the Spanish Soap Opera. “Hey Dezi? Could you maybe get us some drinks?”

Desiree was doing her arms-brace and breathing thing but she nods and heads for the kitchen. “And you might as well start icing those cupcakes. We can entertain ourselves.” She looks suspicious but goes. Marcus leans towards Sam and Dean, speaking in a low voice. “So, what do you think? With all that shit Dezi keeps telling me about with the electric and the cold spots I figured it had to be an angry spirit, right?”

Dean was rubbing his jaw. “Spirit, yes, and I think we can be pretty sure it’s our friend Mona. But I’m not so sure she’s angry.”

“What do you mean? How can she still be here if she’s not vengeful?”

“Well you see,” Sam picks up, “not all ghosts come back because they want revenge. Spirits get left behind for all kinds of things: violent deaths or unfinished business. We don’t really get a lot of those because they usually turn vengeful. The vengeful ones we have to salt and burn, but others just move-on. We don’t really catch wind of those if there’s not a body count.”

Who are these guys? They’ve got the look of soldiers but they’re talking about spirits and dead bodies. They’re crazy.

Well, I mean I did die but I’m still here so I guess I am a ghost. Okay so maybe they’re not crazy but they are  _ not _ normal.

“Marcus, where the hell did you find these guys?”

Marcus stiffens and looks around. No way. There’s no way he heard me.

“Well either way,” Marcus continues, distractedly, “it’s gotta be the same as that poltergeist you took care of for me. Salt and burn the remains?”

“What?” A wind blows through the room. The window’s not open. “You want to burn my corpse?”

“I don’t think that’s the best way.” Dean answers both of us. “She drove off of a bridge. They recovered the car but her body was thrown out; it’s still in the river somewhere. I’d rather not have to dive for it if we don’t have to.”

Marcus huffs out a breath. “Then what was the point in all this?”

“Well if we can find out why she’s here,” Sam starts, “if we can find out what she wants, we can help her take care of her unfinished business and then she’ll just move on. No corpse desecration necessary.”

“Yeah,” I bite out, “thanks for that.”

I can’t believe they’re trying to get rid of me; I have been nothing but helpful. All I want is to spend the time with Dezi I never got to when I was alive. I’m not hurting anyone, why can’t they leave me alone!

The lights flicker. I take a deep breath.

“Well,” Dean begins again after inspecting the lights, “as unhelpful as Dezi was, I think it’s safe to assume that since she’s got front row to the freak show, this has something to do with her.”

“Leave us alone!”

All of the lights blow out at once. Shit, I’ve never made something that big happen before. I’m getting dizzy and I hear a muttered ‘I guess she heard us’ before I black out.

 

00000

 

I resurface on my old bed back in my apartment. It’s dark now. I groan, frustrated with myself. I shouldn’t have expended all my energy like that, now God only knows what those brothers are up to.

There’s a faraway sound of a lock clicking. My head snaps up and I materialize in the front hall just as the door opens. Sam and Dean shuffle in and close the door silently behind them.

Well that answered that question. “Breaking and entering into a dead girl’s apartment? Classy guys, real classy.”

There’s a high-pitched whining coming from Sam’s hand. He holds the device up and the top is lit up with red lights. He waves it around. The whining and lights are highest when it’s pointed at me.

“There you are, Mona,” Dean says, smirking. “Found you.”

“What?” I panic. The lights all turn on.

Sam and Dean look around, half-blind and startled.

“All right now, it’s okay. We’re okay.” Sam holds his hands up, palms out, still not really sure where to look. “We’re just trying to get to the bottom of this.”

“Liar. I heard you before, you were talking about the best way to get rid of me.”

The windows blow open.

“Hey, Mona, come on,” Dean tried, “we’re all friends here.” 

“Fuck you!”

A wind blows in so hard it knocks them back a couple of steps.

“Fuck! Sorry, sorry.” I try to center myself; I don’t want to  _ hurt _ these knuckleheads. 

After a minute the wind dies and the windows shut. I’m pretty proud of myself actually but Sam and Dean just look more confused than ever.

“Well that’s new,” Dean looks around, suspiciously, “I expected her to fight more than that. Why would she just give up?”

“Dean, does any of this seem like a normal case to you?” Sam sighs. “We’re never going to get anywhere unless we can figure out what she wants and I don’t think she’ll take too kindly to us going through her stuff.” The lights flicker despite my best efforts. Sam nods in confirmation. “We need to talk to her. I think we’re gonna need Cas on this one.”

“What, why?”

“Who else do we know that can see dead people, Dean?”

Dean pouts but lowers his head and closes his eyes. “Cas, we don’t really know what you’re up to, but if you could kindly beam your ass down here we could use your help.” Dean looks back up at Sam, eyebrow raised. “That good?”

There’s a sound of wings and suddenly there’s a man in the room. Just a man, I’ve never seen him before, but his eyes immediately flash to me. 

And then he’s on me and I’m up against the wall, one of his hands on my neck and the other holding my hip against the wall. His grip is firm and his hands are hot and now his eyes are glowing. My vision goes dark at the edges.

“Cas, what the hell?!” I don’t know who’s screaming. I feel more solid but that might be because I’m being crushed into the wall. “Cas, stop!”

The crushing heat stops but the grip is still firm. I shove at him but he doesn’t budge. I’m just shocked my hands don’t pass through him.

The man turns to look at Dean who seems to have been the one shouting. “This is a spirit. She has no business being on this plane anymore. I’m taking care of it.”

Sam and Dean look at me, or where they probably assume I am, anyway: where the man is holding me against the wall.

But wait, there are my hands, uselessly shoving at the man’s shoulder. And there’s my hair, falling limp and blonde in front of my eyes as I toss my head, trying to get some air into my incorporeal lungs. But my hands and my hair are visible. Does that mean I  _ am _ corporeal? Can they see me?

Can they hear me?

“Help!” I gasp, “I need-” the man’s hand tightens and I choke.

“Cas, dammit, look at her!” They all do. It’s odd having people see me again; I hope I’m not naked. “She’s struggling, man, let her go.”

Cas hesitates but removes his hand from my neck and puts it on my shoulder, still keeping me against the wall. At least he’s not glowing anymore.

“You Mona?” Sam asks, his tone not as gruff as the other two.

“Yes, yes I’m Mona McFadden. This is my apartment.” I point desperately at various objects around the room. “That’s the throw blanket my grandmother made me when I was 11, that’s the special edition box case of Lord of the Rings I waited in line 10 hours for and that’s the scrape the end table makes across the floor when I have to move it to get my keys when they fall behind it.” I pause for breath. “I live here, I’m Mona. I haven’t hurt anyone. Let me go.”

Dean smiles wryly. “Well whatever it is you do here, sweetheart, it’s not living.” He takes a couple of steps towards where Cas still has me pressed against the wall. “You died 4 months ago.”

I roll my eyes. “I know, annoying right? But my lack of actual life doesn’t seem to have stopped me so do you think you could leave me alone?”

The brothers seem taken aback. Cas continues to glare at me, menacingly. “Wait, you knew you were dead?” Sam asks.

“Obviously.” How dim are they? “When you can pass through things and no one can seem to see or hear you, you have to assume you didn’t survive the crash.”

Dean nods his allowance. “Then why are you still here?”

If I still had a body with blood in it would be blushing. “That’s none of your business.”

“Dean, it’s being unreasonable. I should-”

“Cool it, Cas. She’s right, she hasn’t hurt anyone. She deserves a chance.”

Cas turns his glare to Dean and Dean returns it coolly. They stand-off for an uncomfortable amount of time, neither of them looking away. It’s hard for me not to read some sexual tension in there.

Finally, Cas releases me completely. I stumble away from the wall and he retreats into Dean’s side, sulking. Dean nods his victory. “And thanks for making it so we can see her, by the way.” Cas, if possible, sulks harder.

I look down at myself trying to confirm the naked thing but no, I still appear to be in the same sweatshirt and yoga pants I died in. What an unfortunate style choice for the rest of eternity.

I get back to the matter at hand. “Who are you guys, really? And why are you here?”

“We’re hunters,” Sam answers, seemingly unfazed by the exchange between his brother and the other man. “Dean and I hunt monsters. And demons sometimes and in this case,” he gestures towards me, “ghosts.”

“Okay…” I jerk my chin towards Cas, “So who’s he?”

“Oh this is Castiel,” Dean claps a hand on the brooding man’s shoulder. “He’s an angel.”

“Oh,” I knew there was sexual tension, “I thought you guys might be together.”

“What?” Dean releases Cas like he shocked him. “No! I mean literally an angel. Like smitey powers, flying, Cas show her the wings”

“We don’t have time for that,” Sam cuts him off. “Look, we worked with Desiree’s brother on a case a while back and when she told him weird stuff was happening to her he gave us a call.” He shrugs. “Your turn, why are you here and what’s it got to do with Dezi?”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘case’? Why are you after me? Why can you see me now? what was that guy - angel - doing to me?”

“Calm down,” The lights had gotten brighter in my excited state. “We’ll answer your question if you answer ours.”

“But how do I know I can trust you?” I know I’m being evasive but I’m kind of being backed into a corner. “How do I know you won’t hurt Dezi?” Searching looks. “Or- or Marcus?” I tag on, hastily.

Dean looks thoughtful. Cas is still glaring at me. “Okay, fine,” Sam starts with a sigh, “Cas, you wanna take part one?”

Cas turns his glare on Sam who shuffles from foot to foot nervously. Dean elbows him. It doesn’t seem to affect him physically but he relents anyway. “I am a celestial being,” he says, gravely and gravelly, “I have powers and means beyond human comprehension. I am able to move between the planes of being with ease, including the plane of the dead where ghosts such as yourself dwell unnaturally.” His gaze hardens even more. “I was attempting to burn through the soul that remains here as it has no business with the living anymore. To you it would have felt like asphyxiation. To Sam and Dean it looked like a string of light. I was actually combusting every fiber of your remaining essence into non-existence.” His tone is harsh, unremorseful. “And I would have if Dean didn’t think redemption was possible for every mutilation of former humanity he comes across.”

“Okay, okay Cas, jeeze.” Dean claps his shoulder again and Cas shrinks back into his side, shoulders relaxing but still glowering at me. “What Cas was looking to do is basically the same end we’re trying to achieve but we want to send you out peacefully instead of in a ball of fire,” He shrugs. “Seems nicer that way.”

My eyes skip back and forth between Dean and Cas. There’s got to be one hell of a story behind how this gruff looking man put a leash on one of the world’s most powerful and heavenly beings. And an even better story of how the angel doesn’t even seem to mind.

“And you can see me just because pouty-pants wills me visible?”

Dean grins. “That’s right!” 

I nod slowly. “Okay, so I heard you talking to Marcus earlier about a poltergeist?” They nod. “That’s a mean ghost though, right? I’m nice! Why are you trying to kill me? Well,” I rephrase, “send me into the light or whatever.”

“They don’t all start out vengeful,” Sam explains, “but all of them turn out that way. There’s always a reason a spirit will come back and sometimes it’s not a violent one,” Sam looks at me meaningfully. “like you I’m guessing.”

I cross my arms and wait for him to continue.

He nods once. “The thing is, though, is that now that you don’t have a body to anchor you, the longer you hang around, the farther you get from your humanity. The reason you’re still here stays unresolved and you become frustrated and and angry and, yeah, it usually ends with someone getting dead.”

“So you’re not like that now,” Dean picks up, “but we still have to send you off.” He shrugs. “Call it a pre-emptive strike.”

Would that really happen to me? Sure at some points I got so desperate and so low I blew out a light but would I really hurt somebody? Could I maybe hurt her without meaning to?

The weird device Sam was still holding starts whining again. “What is that?”

“EMF detector.” Sam holds it up for inspection then turns it off. “Stands for electro-magnetic frequencies. Ghosts give ‘em off in waves. It helps us find them. Helped us find you.”

“So you guys do this a lot: deal with the supernatural.”

Even Cas gives an amused sort of smile at that one. “Yeah,” Sam chuckles, “you can say that.”

I like Sam, he seems gentler and more sympathetic than the other two. I’m not sure about Dean and the angel but I could believe they’d all been doing this for a long time; I can trust them to know what they’re doing and to help Dezi if nothing else. I breathe a big sigh.

“I’ve been through this whole death thing,” I duck my head, “I heard the sound of my bones cracking as the steering wheel crushed my ribcage and I remember with perfect clarity the smell and taste of blood as it filled my lungs. I can still feel the water in my ears and the glass of the windshield imbedded in my skin.” I look up and look each of them in the eye. “I do have my reasons for staying here but, moving on or whatever… would it get rid of all that?”

The brothers look at each other, communicating silently. Dean sighs first. “We don’t know. We don’t know how it’ll be for you. But what we do know is that it’ll be safer for the people you care about that are still here.”

There’s a sort of understanding in Dean’s eyes. It’s not like the charming smile, the one he’s practiced and knows people will trust. This looks genuine, uncertain. He doesn’t know I’ll trust him but he’s hoping I will. And I do.

“Okay,” I uncross my arms, “Okay you can help me.”

Dean smiles. “Awesome.” He claps his once and rubs them together. “Awesome so why don’t you let us know why you’re here and we can beam you up.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m pretty sure you’ve already guessed.” Yes, I’m still being evasive. I’ve been keeping this secret for years, sue me.

“Why don’t you tell us anyway,” Sam looks at me heavily. “just so there’s no misunderstanding.” He jerks his head towards Dean who looks pleasantly smug and Cas who is still looking grumpy but has his head tilted in bewilderment.

I raise my eyebrow at Sam as if to ask ‘Are they really this dense?’ Sam just gives a long suffering sigh.

I follow him with my own. “I’ve lived next door to Desiree for about four years. She moved in and she was vibrant and funny and kind and she didn’t look at me with the same wariness the rest of the neighbors did. I helped her with her groceries and I lent her sugar when she needed it and I was always there to help but,” I swallow, “she never noticed me. Not really.” I wrap my arms around my torso. “I was just happy when I could get her to smile at me.”

It’s revealing, it’s vulnerability this statement. It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic. I squeeze myself tighter as if I could hold myself together and keep from evaporating into smoke. Which is pointless, really: I’m less than smoke. 

Cas’s voice, burning with realization, breaks through my self-pity. “You loved her.” The dawning comprehension on his face takes away all of the belligerence it harboured before.

“Yes,” I croak, “I love her.” I smile sadly and thump my back against the wall. 

Cas steps away from Dean. “Why didn’t you tell her?” He comes at me with the same purposeful stride but in desperation rather than fury. “Why did you wait until you were dead to spend time with her?”

I curl tighter around myself, leaning on the wall for the support my ethereal form shouldn’t be able to get. “Well what if she didn’t want me? What if the thought of being with me repulsed her? She’s a woman, I’m a woman...was a woman.” The three men dominate my eyeline and the smaller I make myself the bigger they become. I duck my head.

“So?”

My head jerks up. “So?”

“Yes, so? Of what consequence is either of your genders regarding your love?”

I gape at him. “You’re an angel. An angel of freaking God. How can you think it doesn’t matter?”

“God is utterly indifferent to sexual orientation,” Castiel says, seriously.

I blink. I blink again. “Of course He is.”

“Alright, Cas, back off a little, okay?” Dean tugs on his arm. Cas continues to stare but goes willingly.

“Okay…” Sam looks at Cas oddly, then looking back at me he says “so what do you think we should do?”

I shrug, still shrinking. 

“Well do you think it would help if you heard Dezi say she loved you back?”

“Are you crazy?” I snap, “How would loving me help her? How would that be good for her at all? I’m dead! I can’t be with her.” My eyes prickle with tears I can no longer shed. “She’s better off not loving me; I just want to know she saw me.”

They’re quiet. I’m surprised when Cas is the one to speak up again. “I apologize, Mona.”

That surprises me more. “What?”

“Your situation is… difficult. You are very wise, very kind, even after death. I’ve seen most in your situation use their continuation on this plane for violence or manipulation: selfishness. You are good. You do not deserve this suffering.” He bows his head. “I’m sorry for my attempt on your soul.”

I can’t handle the sincerity penetrating me with his gaze. Trying to disguise my emotional response, I look at the others. Sam looks at Cas with affection and a kind of pride. But Dean... Dean’s eyes are brimming with adoration and reverence for the angel. It’s a look so intimate I have to look away again. 

“Thank you, Cas. I forgive you.” I give a humorless chuckle. “Hell, if I thought there was a threat on people I cared about,” I nod at the brothers, “I’d smite first too.” Cas smirks in camaraderie and everything feels okay.

Well, until I remember we’re brainstorming ways to kill me.

“Guys, I uh,” I clear my throat, “I think this might be something I have to come to terms with myself.” I slide the rest of the way down the wall until I’m sitting on the floor. “There’s nothing Desiree can give to me now that I’m dead.” I look at my hands. “Maybe I’ll move on when I, you know, move on.”

They’re quiet again but I don’t look up to see if they’re doing the communication through looks thing. I’m really just brooding about all of my wasted time.

How many times did I bump into her on the stairs and we’d share a smile but nothing else? How long would I linger on my doorstep as she fumbled with her keys trying to open her own door? How many bags did I offer to help her with, eggs did I let her use for her stress-baking? Did I ever offer to talk to her about her stress? Did I ever mention how cute I found her keychains? How much I loved her smile?

The lights dim.

“Hey Cas? Is there any way I could go back to being invisible? You know, like at will?” I ask, glancing at the angel.

“Now that I’ve given you the initial power to be semi-corporeal on this plane, yes, you should have the freedom to choose which state you’d like to be in at any given time.”

I smile at his no-nonsense tone. “So I’ll be able to blink in and out and walk through walls again? The silent observer and all that?” He nods gravely.

I consider popping in to see Dezi again. She’ll be sleeping by now, burrowed in almost a dozen white fluffy pillows. I always try to avoid watching her sleep. It’s too easy and too painful to imagine what it would feel like curled up beside her, her wildly curly hair tickling my chin and her legs twisted away to avoid my perpetually cold feet. I’m not sure what’s worse: her sleeping alone, ignorant of what could have been or me never able to sleep again while stuck in this eternal rest.

“Sam, Cas, can I talk to Mona alone for a little bit?” Dean asks, quietly so as not to break the moment. There’s the sound of footsteps and another flap of wings and Dean and I are alone. I don’t look up as he flops down in front of me, sitting criss-cross applesauce and leaning back on his hands.

Neither of us speak, both waiting for the other to start.

He breaks first. “She did see you, you know.” I look up at him, challenging. “You heard what she said: thoughtful, quiet but very nice. She didn’t understand why the neighbors didn’t like you as much as she did.”

“Yeah, I heard her.” I hug my knees. “She thought I was pathetic.”

“No, she thought you were sweet. She’s going to remember you. You had an impact on her. Isn’t that enough?”

We lapse into silence again, his question hanging between us. Is it enough? I’d never really given her reason to believe I wanted any more from her. She gave me everything I allowed her to. She gave me some time, some attention. Can I let that be enough?

I break this time. “It just sucks, you know?” I shake my head, glancing up at him. “You never think it’s your last chance until you’re out of chances.”

“I get it.” I give him a look. “No really, I do. A while back, I was given a year to live. One year and they would drag my ass to hell. I kept putting it off and putting it off; I had other shit to do than try to save myself.”

“So how did you?”

“I didn’t,” he says through a huff of empty laughter, “the year ended and my ass got dragged to hell. I was out of chances.”

My eyebrows scrunch together. “Then what happened? How are you here?”

“Well it was Cas.” His eyes are far away. “He gripped me tight and raised me from perdition.” He smiles at the memory. “He gave me a chance, beyond death, that I couldn’t even imagine.”

“Come on, Dean. I know you’re not trying to tell me an angel is going to come and resurrect me.”

“Oh hell no, they don’t do that anymore. But this right here,” he points at me, “this is your hell. Watching her, seeing her, and not being able to touch her has got to be hell. Moving on  _ is _ your next chance.”

I search his face. “You sound like you speak from experience, Dean.” He looks away. “Seeing him and barely touching him must be hell.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Dean.” I try and lift his chin but my hand passes through him. He looks up anyway. “You heard him coming at me with the ‘why didn’t you tell her’ stuff. You heard what he said about ‘utter indifference to sexual orientation’. There’s only one reason he would get all that hot and bothered,” I look him dead in the eye. “The angel’s into you.”

Dean starts to stutter an argument. “Save the denial for your brother, boy, but I don’t think he’s buying it either.”

I can feel the heat coming off of Dean’s blush. Dezi would sometimes blush like that when she asked to borrow a baking ingredient of which she only realized she was short after she’d already started. She blushed a lot, actually. She would blush and look down to the left when I told her of course it was no problem to help. Of course I would hold the door open, of course I would hold the elevator, of course I would sign for a package. She would blush and say thank you. And she really was grateful.

“Would it have been enough for you, Dean?” I ask suddenly. “Would you be content just to know you impacted Cas’s life?”

He smiles slightly as he looks back at me, “Sweetheart, that’s how I get through my days.”

I nod at him, satisfied. 

It fucking hurts. It hurts to know I’ll only be a vague memory: the helpful girl next door who dressed like a bum and didn’t seem to sleep. It is so goddamn painful knowing that I could have been more than that to her even if she could never love me as much as I loved her. It sucks and it hurts but you know what? I  _ was _ that helpful girl next door who dressed like a bum and didn’t sleep. I did do all of those pathetically helpful things. I was a coward that suffered my pining heart in silence. But she blushed and she smiled and was grateful so it might be okay.

I feel this glowing in my core, both like and unlike what I felt when Cas had me by the throat. I pull myself back to my feet and Dean does the same.

“Dean I want you to promise me something.” The lights are all going haywire and I know Sam’s got to be running back so I want to make it quick. “Don’t blow your chance like I did. He wants you to tell him so do it.”

“Mona…” Dean brings his hands up to cover his eyes as I get brighter.

“Dammit, Dean, I’m dying here. Promise me!” There’s a shrill keening building in my ears. Sam bursts back through the door and his hand immediately comes up to block out the light.

The last thing I see is Dean mouthing the words ‘I promise’ and then I burst and I’m gone.


End file.
